A Growing Threat
by Blake Stone
Summary: Rainbow Six is thrown into action again. A biological weapon has been stolen. The Americans have blamed the Chinese, the Chinese and have promised to retaliate. The story is now finished. Chapter 8 is here read and review!
1. Chapter One: Part One

I watched the back of the tango's head through my scope.He was one of the last obstacles opposing our way to the rooftop helicopter pad and our medevac site.I faintly heard the sounds of my squad approaching from behind me.I squeezed the trigger of my Lee Enfield L85A1 British Assault Rifle.I was rewarded with a high-pitched crack and the target falling.

I took my eye away from the scope and moved out ahead of my squad.The helicopter pad was located at the top of the relatively short, forty-floor skyscraper that we had just shot up the top two floors of.

Eighteen hours ago a group of fundamental terrorists had stormed the building of and sealed them in the top two floors and threatened to kill the hostages that they said they had if they weren't given all of their demands.Snipers and repeated helicopter observation flights had confirmed a single fact, the terrorists had no hostages.They had blitzed the terrorists and smashed the place.The only problem was the Andrei; our shotgunner had taken a round in the back in the processes of doing so.

We had immobilized him, but we needed a medevac.I dropped down beside the terrorist's body.I kicked the MAC-10 he still gripped in his hand away.An approaching Huey did a flyby over the pad and then moved around for a landing.The huge downdrafts of wind picked up anything that was not nailed down and throwing it around the building's top.

Two black clad figures ran up to the pad, bearing a stretcher with a man on it.They slid it and Andrei on, then the chopper lifted off.I watched it disappear into the night."Casey, get down to the 38th floor rest rooms."

I touched the sub vocal microphone on my throat."On my way."

I took the stairs down to the 38th floor.I pushed open the door and moved towards the sound of gunfire.Three of my groups were taking cover behind office furniture and firing into the door of the restroom.Every so often, a hand gripping a MAC-10 or a skorpion would poke out and let loose a burst.

I took advantage of a break in the firing to sprint to the nearest person under cover.It was dark in the room, and the figure was clad completely in black, with a helmet and goggles, but I could see the snipers rifle on her back.That told me that it was Krystal Mclean, our unit sniper for this op.She held her MP5-PDW, her back-up weapon, at the ready; the look in her eyes told me she was scared and confused.

I couldn't blame her for being scared. A sniper is trained to observe the battlefield through the scope on their rifle.They often have difficulty in close combat situations.

We all ducked as more automatic streamed out of the doorway.I returned fire with my L85.My clip ran dry and I dropped back to reload.I dropped the empty clip to the ground and snapped another in, then snapped the bolt forward.

I pulled out a fragmentation grenade."Don't grenade them." Sounded in my ear.

"Why not?"

"We need to make sure that we get one alive to interrogate them."

I looked down on my CQC (close quarter combat) vest.I had spent all my flashbangs earlier in the engagement.My hand touched my subvocal microphone."Does anybody have any flashbangs left?" I asked. 

"None"

"Not here."

The rest were a chorus of the others.We had used all of our flashbangs, even if we hadn't I would have expected that my men would have already tried it.I had trained most of these people myself; they would have easily thought out the situation and had been able to come up with flashbangs as the best solution possible for the given situation.

One of my guys tried to move to a better firing position by crouching up to fire.As I watched, the hand gripping the skorpion came around the corner and fired two rounds.Both the rounds stuck home and my man went down, collapsing onto his back as he did.

The tango that shot him got a little too brave and exposed himself to try to pick a few more of us off.I fired a quick three round burst that cut the man in the chest, leaving bloody stains on his shirt front, and smears where he slid down the wall he had been standing in front of.

More gunfire came from the door. I had had enough.I pulled a frag grenade off my vest, yanked the pin and tossed it into the bathroom.A panicked yell came out "grenade!"

The explosion sounded, lighting up the bathroom, then there was silence.

I jumped over a desk to the fallen soldier.Three more advanced to secure the bathroom.

I carefully checked over my man.He wasn't dead, he was still moving his legs and groaning as his hands felt around his chest.It looked like the rounds had cut through his CQC vest and into the Kevlar beneath it.

I carefully lifted the vest off and then the body armor.The bullets were both stuck in the chest plate."You're a lucky guy." I exclaimed and helped him to his feet.

The next few hours were filled with cleanup and investigation.There were investigators swarming around the scene, cut the number one thing I wanted to know was if Andrei was all right.

I went to our unit leader, Santiago Aniviscara, and asked him if he knew anything.He told me that Andrei had just gone into surgery and it was too soon to tell anything, but he would let me know as soon as he heard anything.

I wasn't sure what to do. All I did was walk around, looking like I was busy so that no one would disturb me from thinking.

I knew Andrei's rather well.I was a friend of his family and knew that he had a wife with a baby on the way.

As well as that, the way Krystal handled herself in close combat situations bothered me.She wasn't properly trained, which would have to be fixed.I didn't want her, or anybody else on Rainbow to end up like Andrei had.

I came to a stop as I felt my boot kick something and send it skittering.I looked down at what I had kicked and found one of those little clip-on identification tags that you always see in the movies.

I picked it up and looked at it.The picture was of a middle aged oriental man.The header was for Sheyumen-Habatsu meat freezing based out of Tokyo, Japan.On the back of the card was a separate business card that had been taped to the ID.The face on the card looked familiar.It did because I had killed the man that belonged to it.He was the only oriental with the terrorists.He was the one that I had shot after he put two rounds into one of my men.

I walked back to the bathroom.The body was still lying against the wall in a pool of blood, it had taken a fair bit of shrapnel damage from my grenade, but otherwise it looked all right.It was easy to see that this man was the one on the card. 

I slipped on a latex glove from a nearby forensic kit and checked the man's pockets.All I found was another ID card for the meat freezers.I took that one and added it to the one already in my pocket.

I went around to all of the bodies and checked them.The rest had nothing on them.I took the cards and to Aniviscara and let him take a look.He said that he would turn them over to the investigators and take it from there, but he said he felt that we would make a quick stopover in Tokyo on our way home and take a look at this meat freezer.

In fifteen hours it was all over.

I sat in Andrei's hospital room.He had undergone major surgery, but they had been unable to find or remove the bullet.After stitching him up, the boy had slipped into a coma and the doctors were unable to move him.Subsequent X-rays had made matters worse.They showed the bullet dangerously close to his spine and decided that moving him at all could kill him.


	2. Chapter Two: Part One

Disclaimer: Rainbow Six: Rouge Spear is the property of Tom Clancy and Red Storm Entertainment.No profit is being made from this story, but the characters of Molnar, Krystal, Duke Morgan, and Anna Blue are the property of myself.

My beeper sounded off.I took it off my belt and looked at the display screen.The LCD display screen displayed the number that was used when Ding Chavez was calling our entire unit to a certain area.I stood up and grabbed my jacket, my hand reaching into its pocket for my cell phone.All members of Rainbow were required to carry a cell phone and a beeper so that they could be in constant contact with the rest of the team.I stepped out of the room and walked down the hallway, my hand dialing the number displayed on the beeper.

I arrived at the New York City International Airport just behind the rest of my men.Aniviscara was in the process of using our United Nations papers to commandeer us the personal use of a jet.

I personally figured that the airport official that Aniviscara was speaking to would balk, so I took a head count of everyone gathered in the airport.All were there.Ten people divided into two fire teams of eight and a sniper and spotter.Our first fire team consisted of Aniviscara, Andrew Burke, Lars Beckenbauer, and Roger McAllen.The second was Myself, Karl Haider, Timothy Hanley and Antonio Maldini.Our sniper team usually consisted of Krystal as a sniper and Emilio Narino, the young Columbian.

Ding Chavez entered the Airport.I watched him as he scanned the room for us, and then waved to grab his attention as his eyes crossed across us.He waved back and then made his way through the crowd to where we were all lined up with our gear.

Chavez spoke to the airport official and then waved us all to pick up our gear and follow him.The official led us down the security hallway, past the lineups and crowds.Our bags were inspected and diplomatic tags attached to the hard plastic cases containing our weapons.We were then ushered onto the tarmac and aboard a fueled and waiting Learjet.

We boarded the aircraft and sat in the comfortable chairs, waiting while the pilots were briefed and a flight plan was filed.

Arnivisca and Chavez sat down in the seats and buckled the belts.They then turned them to face the rest of the squad.Ding Chavez produced two file folders and then passed them around in opposite directions to all the members of the squad.

"We are now on our way to Tokyo.We played your hunch, Molnar.We looked at that Heyutmesu Freezers and found that the whole company was a front.Were not quite sure what faction it belongs to, hopefully we'll be able to find them out.For the moment, based on the small amount of evidence and hearsay that we have gathered, were saying that the Eastern Coalition is responsible."

I looked at my file.The first page was a quick overview of the Eastern Coalition.I didn't bother to read it since I already knew what it said.

The Eastern Coalition was a Neo-Nazi Communist Militaristic cell devoted to the teachings of Hitler and Lenin.Known for their racist views, they were responsible for several acts of race-oriented violence and attempted Ethnic Cleansing.

Their leader was a German, Hans Grobbell, and real crack-job.He figured he was destined to be the next Adolf Hitler, the man was obviously insane, but unlike most European Neo-Nazi groups, the Eastern Coalition was able to threaten with its considerable manpower.His forces weren't crack job skinheads either; they were relatively good troops for a terrorist group.

"We're doing some reconnaissance when we get there, take a look around, files, computers, etc.It's all fair game.Make sure you actually open the freezers.If we find any hardware, plant these."He held up a black rectangular prism, looking like it was one of those remote car lock key chains.

"They're homing devices so we can track the movement of hardware and possibly hit a major base.Suit up and get ready."

We pulled out all of our equipment.Since this was a recon mission and we were not likely to encounter any heavy resistance, we only wore light armor under our CQC vests.We had black combats, balaclavas, night vision goggles and we decided to forgo submachine guns, instead going with silenced HK Mk23 SOCOM pistols.Each pistol had Trijicon night sights, a sure-fire flashlight that could be switched on and off with a squeeze of the trigger hand, along with three clips of ammunition.

I sat back on my seat and pulled on my Nomex soft-soled CQC boots, then secured knee and elbow pads onto my limbs.Krystal was given a PSG-1; we would set her up in a building to cover us.

Arnivisca decided to withhold the bulk of our forces, instead Arnivisca would be paired up with me and Chavez would go in with Maldini.The rest of our squad would carry standard assault weapons and move in to attack in the event that we were overpowered.

We touched down two hours later.We were quickly ushered off the jet and into a dark Toyota SUV that was heavily armored.We sped off the airfield and into the congested Tokyo traffic.The driver, a Tokyo city police counter terrorism officer turned to face Chavez, sitting in the passenger seat.

"We've cornered off the building with a roadblock in a three block radius.No activity around it, it looks like it's been totally shut down."

Chavez nodded."It would, we need to get in there before the Coalition runs."

The driver nodded."I knew damn well that the EC was present there.They were the only round-eyes in this area."

We passed through the discreet police roadblock and drove until we were within one block of the building.It was three a.m. Tokyo time and there was no traffic within the roadblock and the silent buildings threw off no sound.The sleeping people had not been evacuated for fear of tipping off the terrorists to our presence.

We were dropped off and watched as the SUV sped off in the direction it had come from.We walked it in from this location.We soon came into view of Heyutmesu freezers.The company was definitely a moneymaker; they offered other people the ability to rent or lease one of the large freezers in the building, completely confidentially.Store anything from chemicals, vaccines, meat, and even dead bodies.Not even police could search in here; it was only our United Nations Sanction that allowed us to.

The building was three stories tall.Very modern as the first level was two circles with the second and third levels being placed on top of those.The walls were gray stucco, plus there was lots of glass, giving Krystal and excellent field of view to protect us with.We set her up on the balcony of a vacant apartment building across the street.

We then moved across the street.The four of us spanned out, leaving the rest of the group at the apartment in case of an emergency.

We crossed the street and held up behind a bush on the front lawn.Even though this was Japan, this place was located far enough out of the city and Hans Grobbell had enough cash to afford having some lawn and bushes in front of his companies.

I pulled out my night vision goggles and took a look around the building and through the windows."All clear."I announced through my lip mike.

Arnivisca and I slipped around the back to the service entrance.I disabled the security camera there while Arnivisca went to pick the lock.It only took a moment before I heard the click of the deadbolt retracting.

I reached into my CQC vest and pulled out my heartbeat sensor.This neat little piece of equipment would detect the electrical field given off by a beating heart and then project it onto the little LCD screen on the device.It was very useful for detecting Tangos before they could detect you, especially on assault missions like this.The only problem with it was that it didn't always work properly and sometimes wouldn't detect the heartbeat of a tango, forcing you to work the old fashioned way, even after scanning a room.Like most technology, it couldn't beat a skilled operator with a good weapon.

The sensor registered the room as empty.I put it away and drew my SOCOM, making sure that it was ready to fire.Arnivisca did the same.

He pulled the door open and I went in, scanning the room with my night vision as I did.This was the point where we were the most vulnerable in a tactical situation.The light that was filtering in through the door behind us was silhouetting us against the outside, making us easy targets for any trigger-happy raghead to open fire.All we had on our side was the element of surprise, and if the lights were on inside, that was gone as well.

No fire came at us and I found no targets as I scanned the inside.There was nothing.A loading dock with a few crates on top and a door leading further into the building.

We moved slowly across the loading area, climbing up the loading dock and moving to the door.Arnivisca was examining the lock and confirmed that it was unlocked.You see, picking a lock in a combat situation is dangerous work.First of all, it takes time, which gives terrorists ample time to come around behind you and shoot you in the head.Second, it is noisy, not as noisy as using a breaching shotgun on it, or blowing it open with a breaching charge, but it doesn't matter because if you make noise, the bad guys on the other side could be calling Kremlin Joe to send some of his Spetznaz to help you out with your views on religion in the time it takes you to unlock the door.We were lucky that the door was open, even though the Heartbeat Sensor registered the room as empty.

Arnivisca went through first, his .45 up and ready.I followed and made sure that no one tried to flank us and come from behind.

The lights were on dimly here so I pulled off my goggles and stowed them in my vest.I moved past the doorjamb.The corridor beyond was gray and ulitarian, three meters across and four high.The doors that ran all the way down the corridor all connected to freezers in the building.I checked the corridor for surveillance cameras and disabled them.

We moved into the largest freezer in the building, about the 1800 square feet in a roughly square form.We opened the door and slipped in.Inside there was a large stainless steel box chained down to the center of the floor and along the wall hung what looked to be sides of beef wrapped in canvas.

Arnivisca began working on opening the metal box while I loosened the sack surrounding a side of beef.The bag dropped away easily to reveal a human being.The man's face was pale and he was obviously dead.There was a tight grouping of three bullet holes in the lower left of the man's abdomen, which explained the apparent absence of life.The man was Chinese and he appeared to be wearing some sort of uniform as well, but the blood, bullets and freezing had done too much damage to it for me to read the script or identify it.The others were the same; eight in all, all with the same damaged uniform. 

I looked over at Arnivisca who only had one of the two padlocks open.The second one finally popped open and he lifted the lid carefully, checking for any booby traps with his flashlight as he went.

He opened the case, revealing three slim, black canisters all sporting the international symbol for biohazard.Above those, surrounded in foam with the wires to connect them, was an LCD screen and keyboard.It was a biological weapon. 

Arnivisca took a surprised step back, the reached into his gear and pulled out a camera, he snapped several pictures of the weapon, the dead men and the rest of the freezer.

Arnivisca then attached a homing beacon to the device and set the lid down over it, replacing the padlocks.He then helped me with the unpleasant task of replacing the canvas over the dead bodies.I put a homing device in one of the dead men's pockets before we wrapped him up.

I took one last look around the freezer to make sure we hadn't missed anything.There was a stack of some sort of metal in the corner, but that was it.

We slipped back into the hall and came back to the back door.We closed it and relocked it.We continued out along the side of the building, returning to the apartment across the street for pickup.As we came to the front, Arnivisca suddenly reared up against the wall, holding his pistol ready.

I backed up as well, then looked forward to fund out what he had seen.Out on the front lawn of the building was one of the Japanese guards.I slipped on my night vision and had a look.He wasn't holding any weapons that I could see, but there was a bulge under his left arm that was probably a pistol.

We waited.The man looked around, lit a cigarette, and then walked towards us.I held my breath.I could kill the man easily, but then we would have to go the all the trouble of removing the body and covering all of our tracks.Plus, if we killed the man, the EC would know we had been here, and that may spook them into running.

We lucked out.All the man did was retrieve a piece of garbage cluttering the lawn, then turn around and enter the building through the front door again.

We moved out, the other team falling in behind us.The tension rose until we were across the street, then we took cover behind the apartment.

I checked my watch and found that we had been in the building for almost three hours.I climbed the fire escape to where Krystal was, and then waved for her to come down.She had sat up there the entire night without moving, observing the world through the scope of her rifle.She shook slightly as she got up, but I helped her down the fire escape and into the black SUV that had come to pick us up.

Arnivisca jumped in immediately after me and handed off his camera to Ding Chavez, the film of which would be taken, developed and immediately stamped top secret.

The SUV quickly sped off into the night.


	3. An Unexpected Friend

Arnivisca had booked us an immediate flight back to England, but we had a holdover time in Germany.We all sat in the terminal and waited for our plane to arrive and carry us the rest of the way.During this time, I watched Arnivisca and Chavez communicate frantically with London over their cell phones.We hadn't been told what the deal was yet, but I was sure that it wasn't good.

Finally when we were fairly sure that it wouldn't be anytime soon that a plane would be arriving, Arnivisca made us set our beepers and then turned us loose on the town.I had been to a German College in my younger days, so I invited Krystal to accompany me to one of the finer bars I had become familiar with.

We left the airport and hailed a cab, then rode the autobahn into town.We passed one of the Colleges I had attended and I pointed it out.Finally we were further into the town and I told the driver to stop at one of the local pubs that I faintly remembered.We stepped into the dark and musty environment lit mostly by the stubby candles that rested on each of the tables.There were only three occupants, all were dressed in leather and had nearly bald, shaven heads.One of them wore a black t-shirt that displayed the slogan Deutschland vos Deutschlanders – Germany For Germans, a popular Neo-Nazi slogan.

Apparently the bar I knew was under new management.I grabbed Krystal's arm and prepared to make a hasty retreat back out the door, but it was too late, one of them had spotted us.He spouted an angry stream of German that I pretended not to understand, actually I had taken German during my college days, and this Gentleman was comparing me to a female dogs reproductive system.

The blank look I had made my face display made him shake his head and then come again in heavily accented, but understandable English."You there, Americana.Get out, only real Germans may drink here, and take your whore with you!"

I took a step forward, prepared to defend Krystal and my rights and freedoms, but Krystal grabbed my arm and tried to pull me out of the establishment, saying "Come on Casey, he's not worth it."

I started to follow here, but the man had say my earlier attempt to defend myself and apparently took offence at that.He got off his bar stool and started stepping towards me."Englishman a big man?How about we remove you head from your shoulders and then we see how big you are?Then maybe we have some fun with your woman, huh?"

"That won't be necessary." I stated as he closed the remaining distance.Then I took a step forward and delivered a sharp kick to his instep, along with an elbow to his solar plexus, toppling the huge man.

My hand reached up under my leather jacket to grasp the Berretta 92-F that was concealed there in a shoulder holster.I produced it and aimed it at the bartender who was busy reaching under the bar for something."I wouldn't do that if I were you," I commented, motioning with my pistol for him to move away from whatever he was reaching for.

The man that I had beaten down was becoming conscious again.He looked up at me as he gripped at his chest."You fucking American pig!"He cursed, but did not try to get up or do anything that was threatening.

I glanced down at him, still holding my pistol steady."Actually, I'm Canadian.A pleasure frequenting your establishment, gentlemen" I said.

I then looked at Krystal and started to back towards the door.I never saw the attack coming, must have been someone by the door or walking into the place.I felt something heavy hit me on the head, and then I fell to the ground.Blackness consumed my vision and I was out.

I awoke to the annoying sound of humming fluorescent lights.I slowly opened my eyes and found myself in a non-descript room.Wooden floor, painted walls, could have been any room in all of Germany.The windows had been covered, preventing me from seeing outside the building.

I was in a sitting position and when I tried to flex my arms, I found that they had been bound to the chair I was sitting on.There was a small table a few feet from me; on it was my pistol and wallet, beeper and other items that had been in my wallet.

I heard the distinct noise of a door opening behind me and I tried to crane my neck to see who it was, but to no avail, they stood directly behind me."Don't worry Mr. Molnar, you'll soon see more of me than you can stand."

I brought my head around to look forward, but said nothing.Footsteps brought into view the man that was speaking to me.He was a regular looking man, average in all ways.He stood a little less than six feet tall, Caucasian, brown hair with a thinning hairline.He wore all black, black combat pants, jungle boots, and tactical sweater.He had a Browning High Power 9mm holstered at his side.The average look he held would have thrown most people off, but I recognized him.Gerhard Arnhiemer, a big shot in the Neo-Nazi underworld, constantly under investigation, responsible for dozens of murders and maimings.He had gone totally underground about a year ago, shedding all of his civilian bank accounts, credit cards, etc.Instead he had decided to channel all of his time and money into the Neo-Nazi movement, trying to mould it into his own twisted fashion.

He stood in front of me, hands on his hips."Well know, what are we going to do with you?"

"Go to Hell."I said simply.

"You are hardly in a position to use any profanity when referring to me.You fucking Americans think you can do anything don't you?You walk into one of our operations centers and then beat one of my men and wave a gun around.What the hell were you thinking?"Said Arnhiemer, his voice growing high and squeaky with annoyance at the end of his statement.

"I told this to your man in the bar, I'm not an American, I'm Canadian."I said, slightly annoyed.

I watched Arnhiemer's face turn a glowing red.The muscles of his face tensed violently as if he was about to lash out.Finally he did, a roundhouse punch to my jaw.I could feel my lip split and tasted blood.

"You American Son of a Bitch! You think you can come in here and do anything you want.I will teach you American Bastards."With that he reached down to his waist and unholstered his browning.

"We are rather crude around here, having as few supplies as we have," he said, producing a silencer and screwing it onto the muzzle of the pistol."I hope you won't force me to use one of these unsophisticated methods."

I bit my tongue, but managed to keep my mouth shut this time.

Arnhiemer crouched down so that he was face-to-face with me."You don't react to this like a normal American tourist.That makes me think that you are with a group.What faction would this be, hmmm?Red Cell, perhaps?"

"Where is the girl?" I demanded."If you ensure her safety, I might be a little more willing to talk, hmm?"

"You seem to think that you control the situation, trust me, you don't.If you fail to talk or cause me one little bit of excess trouble, I promise you, I will slit her throat from ear to ear."He retaliated, smiling, knowing that he finally had a pressure point.

"Where is she?"I asked again.

"Nearby, out of the way.Now, we were discussing what unit you were with, shall we continue?"He asked.

"Not until I know that the girl will remain unharmed."I said.

"Only you can ensure that, mien Herr, with your willing cooperation." He countered, leaning down to come face to face with me.

"No deal."I said.

The words cut through the man with a knife of fury."I hate Americans, your disregard for life, your urge to dispute everything that we trying to give you, you Americans, you…"

His words were cut off by the sound of automatic gunfire from the room outside the one I was in.Arnhiemer turned, pulling the browning from its holster at his side.He stepped towards the door and held his pistol ready to fire.A three round burst cut through the door and into Arnhiemer.He fell to the floor soundlessly, pistol skittering away from him.

I pulled a little tighter at my bindings, trying to find a weakness in the cord to break out from.I wasn't sure who was doing the shooting, but any help at this point I deemed good.

The door was slammed open by a large man carrying a one man battering ram, he pulled away and three of the intruders burst into the room, all dressed in black combats, CQC vests and body armor, and each of them brandishing MP5 A4 submachine guns.The front of their body armor displayed the word POLIZEZ, the German word for police.I felt a definite amount of relief when I saw that.

Two of them continued out of the room and moved on to clear the rest of the building.Then, the remaining one produced a knife and began to cut away at the bindings that held my hands in place.

"Thanks," I said sincerely, "you guys got here just in time."

The man stopped and looked closely at me.All I could see of him were his eyes behind his ballistic goggles running along me.

"Casey?Casey Molnar?"He asked incredulously.

"Yeah," I said carefully."Why?"

The man reached up and took off his ballistic goggles and balaclava.I recognized the man, his hair was a little bit longer and his face was a little more marked with age, but I definitely knew him.

"Duke!"I grabbed his proffered hand and shook it vigorously, then pulled him into a friendly hug.

"How the hell are you, Duke?"I asked taking another look at him.Although most of his combat gear covered him, I could see that he had grown about another two inches and lost some weight since the last time I had seen him.

"Fine, just fine.By God, how long has it been, ten, twelve…" he started.

"A dog's age at least." I finished.

"Its just great to see you, but what in god's name are you doing here?"He asked obviously confused as to why I was sitting, tied to a chair in the middle of the headquarters of a white supremacist group.

"My group and I got held over in Germany on our way back to London, speaking of which, you didn't happen to turn loose a girl did you, probably in the same position I was in?"

Duke looked at me with a wince on his face."Kind of, but not quite."He said in a pained voice.

"Why, what happened?!" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.I didn't wish to see Krystal dead.

"Well, when we found her, it looked like she had convinced one of them to turn her loose, then she tried to escape and they caught her, and…" he trailed off.

"What?" I asked, fearing the worse.

"Well, she killed two of them with her bare hands, broke one's leg, another's arm, then smashed his nose through his skull."He finished.

"Oh." I said simply, sobering at the thought of seeing her killing these men."What can I say, the fewer terrorists we have to worry about, the better." I said.

"Yeah," Duke said."So what's the deal?What is this new group your with?I told you when I got on GSG-9 after Kosovo, then I get nothing from you?"He said in his sarcastic voice.

"Yeah, well, this group is actually secret, so I really couldn't just call you up and tell you about it.We call it Rainbow, I'm on team six, its mostly covert, real black ops, CIA style, you know?"

"Something like the war, yeah I get it.Heard of you guys too, you were the ones that shut Vezerjadi down, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but that was before my time, I was still in JTF at that time, I got out and joined about a year after that, they came and got me actually."

"I know that."He said soberly.

A brief burst of gunfire brought him back to his mission."Anyway," he said, putting his balaclava and goggles back on,"back to work, here take this."He offered, tossing me his glock pistol."Find me after, we'll catch up, just like old times."

"Just like old times."I agreed.

He stepped out of the room leaving me alone.I looked down at Arnhiemer's corpse.

"I told you, I'm Canadian." I said for the final time, then left the room as well.


	4. The Return

The flight back to England was uneventful.Arnivisca beeped all of us back to the airport before Duke and I could catch up over a drink, but he got clearance from GSG-9 to come back to England with us, apparently, Rainbow had just released some of its earliest activities to certain allies and the Germans seemed to be especially interested in our counter terrorist techniques.The German Spec Ops Command called up John Clark and was allowed to send Duke with us as an observer and advisor to our operation.

So it ended up that we were telling stories on the jumbo jet that was taking us to London, instead of beer, we had those stupid little bottles of plane alcohol, but, as long as the UN was footing the bill, it worked.

There was time now for a little filling in.Duke and myself had both been members of the Canadian Army.We had seen action in the Gulf, Bosnia, Africa, and Kosovo.Most of those missions were when we were both in the Canadian JTF-2, Canada's own Joint Task Force, Team Two.We were the elite Special Forces antiterrorist group of Canada.In 2000, Duke had left to transfer over to Germany's _Grenzchutzgruppe-9_, _the _top counter terrorist group at the time.I opted to stay in the Canadian Military, close to home.Then, in September of 2001, with the terrorist attacks in the United States and the subsequent lack of Canadian Military Involvement, Rainbow, seeing my files and ratings, approached me and offered me a position in their ranks.The only catch would be my resigning my commission in Canada.I liked the county and forces, but the leadership was lacking, this way, I would be going operational immediately and would be making more money as well.I signed on.

At that time, Rainbow was still top secret and I was unable to tell anyone, Duke, my parents, anyone at all where I was going or what I would be doing once I got there.

Duke, on the other hand, had made himself quite a career in GSG-9.His family was from Germany, and he was always out on operations, doing what he loved.He had made quite a name for himself in the Counter Terrorism Community as well, but Rainbow had never shown much interest in him because of the publicity that would be showered on them if he ever transferred to our ranks.He was pleased now to know what I was doing, and to know why he could never get a hold of me.He was definitely pleased to be riding with me on our next couple of operations.

We landed at midnight, local time, in London.We picked up some rental cars and were on the move back to Hereford where our base was.Myself, Duke, Krystal and Andrew Burke rode with me.While I drove, filled Duke in on the mission so far.He offered some interesting insights into some of our problems.Burke listened carefully.The young Englishman was on squad two of Team six with me, I really never had the time to talk with him, as he kept mostly to himself.He often told jokes before missions to relax the team, frankly, I always thought the jokes did more to relax him then it did to relax the rest of us.

However, something that surprised me was how much Duke and Krystal hit it off.They had barley known each other for hours now and already they seemed able to talk freely and recognize each other's unconscious body movements.They would often talk quietly in a lull in the conversation.

It was about an hours drive to Hereford.A light rain had begun to fall as our small convoy turned into the town.As we stopped at an intersection, I looked over at Burke, seated next to Krystal in the backseat."Okay Burke, give it to Duke."Burke smiled and reached into his duffle bag, holding up a balaclava with the eyes and mouth sewn shut.

"Put it on, Duke."I said, passing the balaclava to him.

"What the hell is this?" he asked looking at the balaclava.

"We don't just let any person into our base, you know, but when we do, we like to keep our location secret.So we use this."I explained.

Duke shook his head and slid the balaclava on, covering his eyes.I pulled out and continued on my way to the base.

Although his eyes were covered, I knew that Duke would be committing every turn, sound, and change in speed to memory.Just because we blocked one of his senses didn't mean that we had totally blinded him from knowing where we were going.

We pulled into the base, past the dozen or so armed guards that were at the gate, then down into the underground parking lot.We got out, grabbed our bags and used our keycards to get into the elevator that would take us into the base.

The armored doors opened and we entered a long corridor.The corridor was lined with metal detectors and hidden gun ports.Then we came to the main door.The door was circular, like one from a large safe.It was designed to withstand most conventional explosions.Arnivisca took a key that he always had draped around his neck and used it to unlock the door.Then, with a hiss of compressed gasses, the large door swung open, admitting us to the inside.

The room ahead of us was operations, the brain of our little operation.That was where the command and control aspects of missions were planned and executed.Operators listened in on communications and watched a mission progress on satellites.

There was the armory, in a smaller room to the side of operations, that was where our armorists would dispense us the necessary weapons and gadgets that we would need for our operations.

Towards the back of the building were the rooms for members that either lived on base or needed to sleep here because of time constraints.For those members, there was a gym, pool, a small bar that had darts and pool, a library, and of course, the shooting range.Also for training, we had access to a close kill room and a recreated city street to sharpen our skills in urban warfare.

While Arnivisca reported in, I showed Duke around the place and then to his cabin, where I left him to take a shower and change into a fresh pair of combats.Woodland combats were the most common dress on base.

I did the same, returning to my cabin to rest.Tomorrow I would schedule some CQC exercises and coach Krystal through them, try to make her as good as possible before we went out on our next mission.Until then, I just wanted to sleep.After my shower, I got under the covers and fell instantly to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of my bedside phone ringing. I groaned and picked up the receiver."Hello?" I mumbled into the mouthpiece.

"Hello, Molnar.Were having a briefing at 0900 hours and wondered if you would like to attend?" Filtered in the voice of Dimingo Chavez.

"Absolutely, sir.I'll be there."I confirmed.

"Excellent, Command and Control room three."Then he hung up.

I looked over at the alarm clock on my bedside.0758 it stated in its unwavering red numbers.

I jumped out of bed and into the shower.The warm water helped bring me around somewhat.I then jumped into a fresh pair of woodland combats and glanced at the mirror before I left.My hair had grown a lot since I had left, I would have to go to the barber before we left again.

I stepped out of my cabin and made sure that the door was locked.I stepped over to the nearest elevator and punched in the number for the command and control rooms.The lift took me up to near the ground level of the base, as most of the Rainbow base was underground, the levels near the surface had the highest security.

I stepped out of the lift and over to where the command and control rooms were.I checked my watch, 0856.The red light was displayed over the door, which signified no entry.An armed guard nearby ensured that no one violated that light.

I looked over as the lift opened again, Duke Morgan stepped out, dressed in black GSG-9 combats.He walked over to me and sat down on one of the chairs that were beside the door to the command and control rooms.

The light above the door switched to green and opened up.Arnivisca waved me and Duke into the room and the swung the door shut behind us.

Chavez and John Clarke looked up from the planning table.The interior of the room was dark, a monitor on the far wall showed a picture of satellite telemetry.The planning table looked like a pool table, but had a bright white, sitting on top were transparencies of reports and blueprints.

"Ah, Molnar, Morgan, nice to see you."John Clarke took the cigar out of his mouth long enough to rattle off a few nice words."We want you to get a good look at this and tell us what you think."

He punched a few keys on the laptop computer he held with him, and then gestured to the satellite display screen.

The image flashed by in two second intervals, but it was pretty clear what was there.A UH-1N Huey landing, then two men lifting off a large black crate with a small forklift, then rolling it into a nearby building.

"That was taken a few hours ago.The Huey left when the satellite was out of range and so far we haven't seen any other movement around the area."Clarke explained.

"I assume you ran thermals of the location."Stated Morgan.

"Every two hours when the satellite comes into orbit.Its our theory that the building that they carried the weapon into is an entrance to an underground complex that is blocking our satellites from taking an accurate picture."

"Figures, they probably know better than we do when the satellite is coming into orbit." I commented.

"Exactly."Clarke stated."Which is why, in twenty-four hours, your team will be deploying to where this was taken."

"Where is that, sir?"Morgan asked.

"Afghanistan."Said Clarke flatly.

_Damn_, I thought.After the brief war was fought between the US and its allies, ending in the decimation of the country and subsequent reparation payments, the US had left the Taliban in control, but without money or power.As a result, the country killed any person that had anything to do with the United States in any way.If any of my team were captured, the result would probably end in death.

"Considering the present Afghan policy on the United States, were only going in on a small forward reconnaissance mission.Very low key.Observe from a distance to find out if they have the weapon or not, if you believe they do, raid the camp, confiscate it and get it the hell out of that country."

The next few minutes were taken up by initial planning of the mission.Team six would be inserted by skydiving in through the radar.Clarke had already acquired the use of a US C-5 Galaxy transport, so that ruled out one problem.We would be silent for most of the mission, but would also carry heavy weapons in case we did have to raid the base.Extraction would be by a chopper stationed just off the Afghan border.It could fly in, snatch us and be out before the military could even mount a response.

It all sounded good.Arnivisca and Chavez would be doing all the fine planning for the mission.We would be leaving for the airbase at Aviano, Italy in a few hours, so it looked as if I would have to call Krystal and tell her that there would be no training this time around.


	5. The fool's raid

I rested my head against the headrest of my seat onboard the C-5 Galaxy and looked out the window. The blackness greeted me, but I knew that below me, the endless stretches of sand would mark that we were currently high over Afghanistan, flying high over the primitive radar of the new Taliban government. The so-called "Theocracy" had come back only months after the Northern Alliance had driven them out, and with the help of the North Korean military, driven them from Khandahar, then from almost all the country, except for the most northern tip of the country.  
  
It really was all the same, the Northern Alliance denounced the US as the infidel when we had driven the Taliban from the country in the first place, then the Taliban made a miraculous comeback, driving the Northern Alliance out and setting up their oppressive government again. This time, they had adopted a more systematic method of terrorism against the west. Instead of direct action, such as flying a plane into the White House, the terrorists had started small unit actions, shooting up subways and residential areas, suicide bombing downtown New York and Los Angeles. Americans were now strongly encouraged to carry concealed weapons everywhere they went and the citizens of the US had to get used to living with terrorism.  
  
I shook my head; Europe had been living with the problem of terrorism on a daily basis. In Northern Ireland the problem of terrorism had been ongoing for the past eighty years, and even today showed no sign of slowing down.  
  
I looked up as Chavez came back from the cockpit. He patted me on the shoulder and said, "Better get ready, were inserting in a few minutes."  
  
I nodded and got out of my seat, following him to the cargo area of the C-5. The US regularly Para dropped medical supplies into the Northern Alliance troops fighting in the north, it was just that this time, the plane would be dropping a more deadly load earlier. The Terrorist camp that we had tracked the weapon to was deep in Taliban territory, but in a region that seemed to be less patrolled and guarded. It was more than likely that we would be in and out without the Taliwhackers ever knowing until it was too late.  
  
I threw on my LBV (Load Bearing Vest) and then slipped on my parachute over it. I connected the straps to the ALICE pack that would be worn between my legs until I landed in country. I then made sure that my G- 36K assault rifle was securely attached to my pack and I could reach the Mk- 23 SOCOM strapped to my thigh. Lastly I made sure I had oxygen and the night vision goggles around my neck would not come off in the jump.  
  
The rear cargo door opened and the loadmaster dumped two pallets of brown canvas bags marked with the Red Cross symbol out of the back, then waved us forward. I would be first out. I stared out at the black night and waited for the loadmaster's hand to hit my back. It did, and I toppled out of the plane into the inky blackness.  
  
It was your standard HAHO, High Altitude-High Opening, combat jump. We would free-fall for sixty seconds; yank the chutes and then parasail about ten miles, bringing us within a day's walk of the terrorist camp.  
  
I checked the luminous dial on my altimeter as I plunged through the darkness, when it hit the right number; I yanked my ripcord and felt a gut- busting wrenching stop as my body made a dramatic change in speed in the course of a second.  
  
I caught my breath and then put the night-vision goggles over my eyes, with a flip of a switch, the Afghanistan landscape was bathed in a world of green. I was still too high up to see much of what was on the ground, but did not see any headlights or searchlights from this height.  
  
I free floated down for several minutes, guiding myself with my compass. As I grew closer, I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. Two figures that I thought to be rocks or cactuses or something, turned out to be two men on patrol. They were armed with AK-47s and what appeared to be hand grenades.  
  
I slid my silenced SOCOM out of its thigh holster. I couldn't be sure of a kill shot while floating down in a parachute, but I couldn't wait until I had landed and risk making noise, or a sudden gust of wind pulling my body off target at the fatal moment.  
  
I remained as silent as possible, lining up the luminous sight markers on the pistol through my night vision goggles. I waited as long as I dared, then fired then pistol.  
  
I shot the first man twice, one round directly between his shoulder blades and the second buried into the back of his neck and exploded out the front. He went down gurgling. The second man whirled around bringing his AK to bear. I readjusted my aim and fired twice. Both rounds passed through the man's head, turning his skull into a mass of broken bones and assaulted tissues.  
  
I landed flat on my feet, coming to a running stop, and then snapped the chute off my harness. I ran to the bodies of the two terrorists. I kicked the Kalisnakovs away from their bodies, then probing them with my boot to make sure that they were dead. They were.  
  
I looked to the sky for my comrades. I saw another figure speeding down towards me on a black chute. He landed near me and I could see from the Styer Aug assault rifle on the man's pack that it was Duke.  
  
He unhooked his chute and pulled off his harness. I pulled off mine as well, and then unhooked the ALICE pack from between my legs. I threw it down on the sand and reached into it until I could find my tri-fold entrenching shovel. I threw the goggles down on my pack and quickly started to dig a hole in the sand. I could hear several other members of my team landing around me as I dug, but I kept up my quick pace until I had a rectangular hole about three feet by four feet, into which we dumped our chutes and then rolled the bodies and weapons of the two soldiers I had killed into it and covered them.  
  
Then I threw the ALICE pack on my back and started walking.  
  
We walked for a fair bit of the night and then saw that at about 5:30am we were getting very close to the camp. A dull glow on the horizon showed the sun becoming ready to crest the horizon in an hour or so.  
  
The camp was on the opposite side of a ridge from our position. We could see very little activity, just a few night guards walking aimlessly around.  
  
We moved across the depression and up to the top of the ridge. I poked my head over the top and saw one of the night guards standing barley twenty feet away from me. I waved my squad back, then drew my K-Bar Fighting knife from its sheath.  
  
Assiym Akhallibad was not afraid of the dark. At least, that's what he told himself. He never knew if it was just him that was afraid of the dark, or if it had something to do with the children's tales of strange beasts in the night that still scared him from this day. He never did tell anyone about it, simply because he would just be inviting ridicule from the fellow men training at the camp. He really didn't have anything to be afraid of as long as he was holding the small, but powerful Skorpion machine pistol. He was only hoping that he would be able to live up to the standards imposed by his instructors and fellow trainees, and not be humiliated.  
  
While he was thinking to himself one shadow detached itself from all the other shadows in the desert and came running straight at him. He looked at it dumbfounded, and then began to fumble with the Skorpion. Not fast enough, before the shadow, that he now recognized as a running man dressed completely in black, brandishing a knife, slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.  
  
Before he knew it, the man was on him, pinning the hand holding the Skorpion down, and feeling the tip of the man's knife probing for a weak spot in his body. The man found it, and with a burning pain, like that of a hot iron, the knife blade cut into the space between the man's jawbone and neck, just below his ear. Fireworks exploded in Assyim's brain as the knife tip buried itself in his nerve stem, then punched through the roof of his mouth. He could feel his mouth filling with blood and his breathing growing fainter, then his sight faded into blackness and he was only left with a feeling of falling that he mistakenly believed was his soul being embraced by Allah.  
  
I continued to force the K-bar into the man's spine, until it had become buried up to the hilt. A small spurt of blood shot up and hit me in the face from a severed artery. I waited until all the struggle had gone out of the man, and then I pulled the blade out.  
  
I waved my squad forward as I replaced the knife in my sheath. There were three tents sitting out in the desert and I could also see where they had draped camo netting over the entrance to an underground area of the base.  
  
I slung my G-36 over my shoulder were I could grab it quickly and pulled out my silenced SOCOM. I waved out who should take what tent, and then we spread out to hit our assigned targets.  
  
I came up to mine. A small breeze had come up and it ruffled the canvas of the tent as me and Duke slipped by. I slid back the canvas flap and used my NV goggles to peer within. Inside was cot after cot of sleeping terrorists. Must have been thirty. Duke and me held up our SOCOM's and nodded to each other. We were about to dive in and start shooting when I heard an alarmed voice yell out in some foreign language, then a lengthy burst from an AK.  
  
I winced and holstered my SOCOM and grabbed my G-36K that was on my back. There was more shooting outside and the men in the tent had started to stir and wake. Duke and I hit them before they were fully awake.  
  
I leaned in and raked the cots with an entire magazine from my assault rifle, then, as I leaned out and reloaded my rifle, Duke leaned in and finished what I had missed with my first volley. He fired two or three long bursts and then came back out.  
  
I looked over; the other tents were being swept out as well. Then I saw the soldiers starting to come from the underground entrance. Three came out, all carrying AK-74s. I brought my rifle to my eye and with an eight round burst, cut them all down.  
  
By this time, the tents had been cleared and everyone was ready to go. I waved them towards the hole in the floor of the desert. We came in through a hole in the netting and proceeded into the darkened hole. I slipped on my NV goggles and proceeded in.  
  
The tunnel was simply dug out of the sand with a few supports keeping the structure from totally caving in. We swept the outer area in, and then found another hole leading down to an entirely new set of tunnels.  
  
I forwent the ladder and merely jumped down, landing in a crouch with my G-36 up and ready. There was one dumbfounded Taliban soldier standing there, I send at three round burst of death at him, eviscerating his chest and sending him toppling to the ground.  
  
I slowly moved along. There was only one room left in the corridor, which had to be where the weapon was being stored. I knew that this was where they would set a trap, but didn't know how to avoid walking into it. I didn't want to risk bringing the roof down on our heads with grenades, but I wasn't confident the room was large enough for CQC combat.  
  
I finally waved Duke forward. We slung our assault rifles onto our backs and took out our SOCOM's. "Just like old times." I said.  
  
He looked at me with his night vision goggles. "Yeah, just like." He said.  
  
We entered the room simultaneously; I immediately saw one turbaned figure aiming an AK, and let three rounds into him. There was another one behind the blast-proof crate that the weapon was in. I fired a single round into his forehead. The man slumped over the crate. Then the room was clear.  
  
I kicked the man's corpse off of the crate and then called Roger McAllen forward. The fellow Canadian set aside his M4 Carbine and opened the latches on the crate. He cracked the lid and opened it wide. Inside was a bright red LCD display connected to four one-pound blocks of C4 high explosive. The LCD read 0:45.  
  
McAllen looked up at me with a dumbfounded look on his face. "Run!!" He screamed.  
  
We all rushed out as quickly as possible, scrambled out of the bottom of the tunnels, and were coming to the surface when the device detonated. The force of the concussion threw me out of the hole, sending me cart wheeling out of the complex, throwing me ahead of the flames.  
  
I hit the ground rolling, feeling flames on the back of my clothes. I rolled until I felt the flames being put out, then I laid still and lost consciousness. 


	6. Erand of Mercy

I felt a hand slapping my face and then the feeling of a damp cloth dabbing my forehead. I opened my eyes and saw Duke's concerned face staring down at me. I groaned and tried to sit up, to quickly as a splitting headache cut into my brain. I ignored it and let Duke help haul me to my feet.  
  
I became aware of a faint whup-whupping in the distance and looked up to see a Blackhawk helicopter coming in on our position about five miles out. McAllen was kneeling on the sand, waiting to guide the chopper in when it got close enough. I looked around for my G-36 but couldn't find it. Duke produced it and handed it to me.  
  
The Blackhawk was close enough to start moving sand around in swirls and blind most of us. I waited for the large machine to start to move horizontally in an attempt to land until I came forward to board it. The aircraft touched down on the sand and sunk a few inches. I walked up to the door as hopped in, the rest of my squad following me.  
  
I grabbed a seat on the stretched canvas frames and buckled up my safety belt. I felt someone tapping my shoulder and looked over to see the loadmaster hand me a headset. I took it and slipped it over my ears. Immediately the deafening roar of the rotors was lessened to a manageable level and I could hear the two pilots talking.  
  
One leaned back and looked at me. "Mr. Clark wants a word with you!" He yelled into the headset.  
  
I nodded and the pilot made an adjustment to the communications panel. Instantly I heard John Clark's voice. "Molnar, are you there?" He asked. "Yes sir, I am." I said back.  
  
"Good, listen. Something big is happening in China. We don't know what. The US and them just had a major fight in the UN, next thing we knew, China's forces were invading Taiwan, Russia, India, Pakistan and into Burma. All opposition forces in the region were quickly wiped out. We've got us a real problem here; please tell me you recovered that weapon."  
  
"Well sir, not quite." I explained what had happened and then waited for him to speak. The line was silent for so long I almost thought we had lost connection. Then he spoke. "Get back to base then, we have to find that weapon."  
  
"Yes sir"  
  
The flight back to Hereford, England was difficult. We had to cut through layers and layers of red tape just to get a flight into England. The airports were all closed because of the advancing Chinese and it took every bit of John Clark's diplomatic power and then some to get us back to base.  
  
Once there we didn't even have time to change, the entire team was ushered into the mission prep room. We all sat down in the theater-style room and waited. In a few minutes, John Clark accompanied by Ding Chavez stepped to the podium.  
  
"There is very little time." Said Clark as an opening. "Chinese forces have occupied most of the middle east and some of Russia. The Russian Army is holding them back, but only for a matter of time. The Russians in no condition to fight a war with what little military power they still wield. The whole thing started when the US accused China of stealing this bio-weapon from them, it wouldn't be the first time either, but it's not true. The Chinese have now accused the US of lying and have invaded several portions of Asia claiming they are retaliating to American subterfuge. Now they're holding position, giving America twenty-four hours to give China a complete apology. The President went on national TV a few minutes ago and said to the American people that the Chinese would be waiting a hell of a lot longer than twenty-four hours for an American apology."  
  
Clark picked up a small remote control and pushed one of the buttons on it. The black screen behind him lit up with a design schematic of what looked very much like a biological weapon delivery device.  
  
"We're talking nuclear war over this." Said Clark, gesturing towards the screen. "The weapon itself is American. Stolen two months ago, it is the machine that actually releases the virus into the surrounding area where it disperses into the atmosphere and begins to infect people."  
  
I looked over at Duke, who had his hand up. Clark gestured towards him to state his question.  
  
"Sir, we know about the delivery device, what kind of virus is loaded into the canisters in it?" He asked.  
  
Clarke looked down at his feet. "It doesn't have a name yet, only a number. L47-5G9. It's the newest in genetically engineered weapons. Essentially the genetic information in the virus is extracted and a much more powerful and dangerous pathogen is used in place. Once injected into a person, the virus delivers its genetic information to every cell in the body, reprogramming it to produce more of the virus."  
  
"What kind of damage does it do?" Asked Burke, sitting in the back row.  
  
"The virus has no antidote and kills within three days of exposure. The worst part is that one canister has enough of the virus to wipe out every man, woman and child on the planet with more to spare, the exact amount that was stolen."  
  
The theater was silent.  
  
"Now for the good news, while you were on your way out, we located the weapon. A satellite thermal image found it onboard an oil tanker leaving the Middle East. The biological component must be kept at a very low temperature to survive, one of the drawbacks of the genetic reprogramming. The satellite found it in the lower decks of the ship. Were sending all of rainbow's available operatives in on this one. Ransack the ship, recover the weapon, and make sure that not one person on the tanker gets away alive."  
  
There was another uncomfortable silence in the room. "Briefing concluded. We leave in one hour."  
  
We all got up and walked out of the room. I walked back to my room and retrieved my gear and then to the armory to check out one of the weapons. I went with the M4 Carbine this time. I took that, ammo, frags, and a Berretta M9, which I chose not to silence.  
  
The hour was quickly used up and we loaded into black SUVs and headed out to the nearest airport.  
  
The next sixteen hours was a daze of dead runs and sitting still. We caught two flights to get to Kuwait City and then waited an hour for a helicopter to take us to the USS Carl Vinson, an American Aircraft carrier in the Persian Gulf.  
  
The mighty ship was sitting in the middle of the gulf, a testament to American military strength. Nearly a kilometer long, the floating weapons platform was also a floating airport. I moved next to the gunner in the Blackhawk to get a better look at the machine as we buzzed the control tower.  
  
The Blackhawk floated above the deck for a moment then slowly descended to come to a rest on the tarmac. The rear door opened and we grabbed our bags. I stepped out onto the deck. The wind blew through me and I looked around at all the activity going on on the flight deck.  
  
It had always been a dream of mine to visit an Aircraft Carrier the mighty machines had fascinated me since I was a boy.  
  
I looked back, my team was looking at me kind of funny, but I didn't really care. I looked over at the base of the control tower where a man was exiting a hatch. He was wearing the standard khaki uniform. He came up to John Clarke and tossed him a salute.  
  
Despite some objection, John Clarke had decided to come on this op. He was cleared in all areas of operation and could fight, but he was the leader and we didn't want to see him die, as it could very well mean the end of Rainbow.  
  
The man was the skipper of the boat. He showed us below to the ready room where we could throw on our gear.  
  
We quickly did. I threw on the black combats then the CQC vest and helmet with goggles, and then picked up my M4 gripping it tightly.  
  
We ran up on deck, two ranks jogging out to the waiting Blackhawks that were being fueled. We needed no instruction; each rank jogged up the cargo ramp and sat down in the stretched canvas seats.  
  
We all had our weapons with the muzzle down on the deck, holding them up by the stock in the air. Waiting.  
  
The wait wasn't long. The rotors started up and we were off the deck in a flash. We raced low along the sea. The chopper ahead of us crisscrossing into our path. The side doors were open and the door gunners had their weapons ready to go.  
  
I stuck my head out the side and could see the tanker as a dot on the horizon. A dot growing bigger as we were almost on top of it when I looked out again.  
  
I reached onto my gear and found my binoculars, then scanned the bow of it. Several men patrolled it. They were all dressed in green and held AK-47s in their hands, many wore turbans.  
  
I replaced the binoculars on my gear and then watched as we drew closer. The terrorists soon saw us and opened fire on the choppers. Rounds hit the armored skin of the aircraft, but it shrugged them off as it nothing was happening.  
  
The door gunners of both aircraft opened up at the same time, raking the ship with twin streams of 7.62mm ammunition. The lead zingers cut into terrorists, tearing them apart on the ships deck. They dug into the siding of the ship, pock marking the paint and metal.  
  
The pilots took the choppers into twin runs on either side of the ship, running up and down the length, showering it with the door gunner's M60 light machine guns.  
  
After the bow was thoroughly cleansed of enemies, the helicopters hovered near the bridge, firing their machine guns into the windows.  
  
When they were sure that no one stirred on the bridge or bow, the pilots maneuvered the gunships into position and a strong nylon rope was thrown out the side of both choppers.  
  
I was first out. I threw on my heavy gloves and then grabbed the rope and threw myself out the side of the chopper.  
  
Many people think that when we do this it is just like rappelling. That is wrong. Rappelling is using a strong harness and a thin rope against a rock face. Fast roping out of a chopper is no more that a controlled fall with the only way of stopping being to squeeze tightly on the rope. When you are falling out of a chopper at sixty-five miles an hour, squeezing a rope causes friction, so much in fact that when my feet hit the ground the palms of my gloves were literally smoking.  
  
My feet hit the deck and my hands went immediately for my M4 assault carbine strapped to my back. I brought it up and covered the landing of the rest of my team.  
  
Duke came flying down the rope, then Krystal, then the rest. We all spread out, covering each other until we were all down the rope. Then we were on the move. We entered the ship through a hatch at ground level, then proceeded into the ship and split up. John Clarke's team moved upwards to take the bridge; Chavez and I went for the bio-weapon in the bowels of the ship.  
  
It took us nearly an hour to clear the way down to the weapon and then move it back to the weather deck. We dropped it off there, leaving most of the team to cover it, then Chavez and myself moved to the bridge to report back to Clarke, not wanting to risk the use of radios.  
  
We went up several staircases, then down a corridor, then up a flight of stairs that was more like a ladder. We poked our heads up and climbed the rest of the way onto the bridge. The team was there, with Morris covering the hatch we were coming out of, and DuBerry and Clark at the helm, stopping the ship dead in the water.  
  
Clark looked over his shoulder and saw us standing there, "Get on the radio to the Carrier, and tell them to send the gunships back for pickup of the weapon."  
  
I nodded and Chavez grabbed the system on a desk and started to put the radio message through.  
  
I looked back and saw that Clarke had disabled the engines and set the ship to a dead stop in the water. He activated the radio he had with his system and spoke into the mike. "Set the charges and get ready to blow the ship."  
  
I didn't hear the reply, but I could be sure that Rodger McAllen gave an affirmative reply and was moving to set his hull breeching charges on decks that were below the waterline.  
  
"Chavez, you have those helos on the way?" Asked Clarke.  
  
"Yes, sir. They just lifted off the deck of the carrier with a biological weapons specialist team on board. ETA is five minutes." Chavez called back.  
  
"Good, lets get this weapon to the helipad and secure for dust-off. Police up everything you need, we won't be able to come back." He said, jumping up and grabbing his M4 Carbine.  
  
We evacuated the bridge and then ran down the stairs to where we left the bomb.  
  
When we got there, Duke Morgan was unloading the clip of his M4 Carbine at some unseen enemy down the hallway that we couldn't see.  
  
As we watched, he pulled back and let the magazine drop out of the Carbine and then slapped another in, yanking back the T-Bar and letting the round chamber with a satisfying snap-click.  
  
"What happened?" I yelled.  
  
"They rushed us, probably trying to take back the weapon, they've been dancing back and forth ever since." He said, leaning out for another look.  
  
A burst from an AK-47 was sent back, marking the wall next to Duke. He pulled back in sharply and then returned with a long burst.  
  
The problem was that we had to transport the bomb from here to the helipad, but if we couldn't control the fire coming at us we could easily be cut down. We didn't have time to take it around.  
  
"Come On!" I yelled and grabbed one of the handles on the outer case of the bio-weapon, holding my M4 in one hand Rambo style.  
  
We all grabbed a handle and started to move it out. Chavez stayed near the corner to provide covering fire to protect us. The rest of us could spray covering fire around with our weapons, but with questionable accuracy, as it would be fired with one hand.  
  
We moved the bomb as fast as possible, trying not to think about what would happen if an enemy bullet hit one of us, or even worse, the bomb.  
  
I could hear the choppers in the distance. We doubled our pace, running along all hunched over and trying to stay low. I fired blindly behind me as I heard an Uzi open fire.  
  
We were nearing the helipad now. We jumped up on it and set up a perimeter. We could still be shot at from where the terrorists had cover, so it was important to be ready.  
  
The sound of the chopper was now loud and I could see it running lights as it skimmed the sea, making ready for a touch down. It ran along the ship, raking it with its door mounted M60, cutting the terrorists down where they were hiding.  
  
Chavez took the break in the firing to sprint towards us. I covered him, firing bursts from my M4 as more terrorists came out and tried to gun the running operative down.  
  
The chopper was setting down now, creating a ruckus with its noise and wind. I fired some more as Chavez reached the stairs and started to run up them. He had cleared the top step, that's when I saw the terrorist, then things started to move in slow motion.  
  
I saw the man raise his AK-74, then his finger started to take up slack in the trigger. I tried to raise my M4 and destroy the man, but my arms were so heavy, so tired.  
  
I managed to bring the muzzle up as I saw him open fire. The rounds hammered out of the barrel, I watched as the bolt threw out several spent bullet casings, one after the other. Then I could feel the bullets cut through the air around me.  
  
One went too high, slicing through empty space above my head, the other went too low, hitting the helipad about a meter away from my foot and ricocheting off in another direction. The third was the one that drove home.  
  
I saw Ding Chavez stumble forward, the bullet driving itself right between his shoulder blades. The armor he wore was no match for the full metal jacket rounds and they cut right through the Kevlar and through the flesh beneath, then exploded out the front of him at shoulder height, right in the center of his chest.  
  
He yelled out and reached for me. I grabbed him just as a fountain of blood came out of his mouth and spilled onto his gear. He fell into me. I held him with one arm and opened fire with my M4 one handed.  
  
My clip emptied itself and I dropped the assault carbine on the pad and then hauled Chavez out of the fire zone and eased him up into the chopper with the help of the door gunner.  
  
I ignored their calls for me to board the machine as well and ran back to where I had dropped my M4, freeing another clip for it from my pouch.  
  
I ran out, dropped and rolled for it. I dumped the clip out of it and jammed the new one it, worked the T-bar and came out of the roll ready to fire.  
  
I looked through the flip up peep sight and saw the bastard that had shot Chavez poke his ugly head around the corner. I slowly drew back on the trigger and emptied a three-round burst at him, stitching him across the head.  
  
Blood splattered onto the wall behind him, he dropped to the ground, broken pieces of his head falling out of his cranial cavity as he hit the ground. A spreading pool of blood christened his passing into the afterlife.  
  
I looked back and saw my team yelling at me to get on the chopper. I ran forward and grabbed an outstretched hand to help me jump into the machine.  
  
I dropped onto the floor, then struggled up and over to Chavez. Duke and Clarke were working on slapping field dressings on the entry and exit wounds that the communist weapon had made in my teammate. Chavez was pale and coughing uncontrollably, bringing up blood with nearly every hack.  
  
Duke looked up at me and shook his head.  
  
Chavez went into a final series of racking coughs and then passed his final breath, straining against Duke and Clark as he fought for the last tendrils of life, then he fell back into them and lied still.  
  
I looked away as Clark reached to Chavez's face and pulled his eyelids closed. I fought against the tears streaming against my eyes and the knot in my throat. I pulled off my ballistic goggles and helmet and let them drop to the deck and put my hands on my face.  
  
I felt a nudge and accepted the canteen that Duke offered. I opened the cap and took a long drink off of it. It helped work the knot out somewhat.  
  
The three-man team of bio-weapon specialists were studying the weapon as we were in flight, making sure that it was disarmed and posed no threat.  
  
The pilot turned around in his seat and yelled towards us in the back. "We're way over-weight. I don't know if we can make it back to the carrier. We have to dump something."  
  
We looked around and then dumped everything we wouldn't need. We dumped armor, vests, weapons, helmets everything we could find out the side, the pilots dumped their flak vests and the door gunners threw the M60s off their mounts and into the ocean below. Lastly McAllen detonated the charges on the ship and threw the detonator out the side.  
  
We flew away into a sunset with the smoke and burning wreckage of the tanker to give us a send-off. 


	7. Downtime

".and keeping all this in mind, it is my personal belief that Rainbow Six has preformed above and beyond the call of duty in light of this recent altercation. The weapon has been returned to the Americans, both the Americans and the Chinese have apologized; China has withdrawn its forces from occupied territories. We have paid heavily with this campaign, but I would like to assure you all, it was worth it. We have succeeded." Stated John Clark.  
  
I was barely listening. The night of Ding Chavez's death still haunted me. I still couldn't cope with his absence. Chavez was the one that had been here the longest, we all looked up to him as he was the Team Six leader. We all were trying to meet his expectations. Now he was gone and Six was now a confused mess.  
  
Arnavisca was now thrown into the position of operational leader of Team Six. I got the feeling that he wasn't really ready for the position and it came as somewhat of a shock. What was even more of a shocker was the fact that I was promoted to Deputy Operational Leader, Arnavisca's old position. I thought after John Clark had seen me loose my cool back on the tanker and take off after Chavez's killers I would be finished with Rainbow. Apparently not.  
  
The briefing was dismissed and we all left the theater. I took the elevator down to the housing section of the base and went to my own room in the Hereford-Rainbow operations building.  
  
I unlocked the door and stepped in. I felt dead tired, so I flopped on the bed and was fast asleep, not even bothering to undress and crawl under the covers.  
  
I awoke to what I believed was the next day. A glance at my watch told me that I was correct. There was now way for me to know any other way, as most of the Rainbow base is subterranean. The noticeable lack of windows made the passage of time difficult to judge.  
  
I got up and jumped into the shower the water revived me in its usual way and then I threw on a fresh set of woodland combats. I exited my room and then made my way over to the duty roster that was posted on a clipboard outside the gym. I took a look at it and saw that most of team six had been given leave for the next three days. Things may have been looking up.  
  
I considered booking a plane ticket to Canada and going to visit my family back in Alberta, but three days was not very long, plus I would need to be near if I we were called back. I opted to see what Duke or Krystal were doing and inviting them to come to one of the local pubs and celebrate our victory, even though I didn't really feel like it was much of one.  
  
I picked up one of the phones in the corridors and called Duke's room. It rang for several seconds, and then he picked up. "Hello," he answered.  
  
"Hey, its me." I announced myself.  
  
"Oh, hey. What's going on?" He asked.  
  
"Not much, just wanted to know if you and Krystal wanted to go down to the local watering hole for some celebratory beers."  
  
"Uh, No, I can't, sorry. GSG-9 called me back this morning. I leave in an hour. I would have told you, but I just got the call not ten minutes go myself. I'll stop by before I leave and say goodbye though." He said regrettably.  
  
"Oh. Alright, that would be good, you might have to look around a bit to find me, I'll be bouncing about a bit." I said.  
  
"Heh, Occupational hazard?" He asked in a laughing tone.  
  
"No kidding. I'll see you in an hour."  
  
"Bye." The phone clicked as he laid it on the base and I slowly set my end down as well.  
  
I decided that I had some aggression that I needed to take out on something. I walked down to the armory and signed out some light armor, a SOCOM, and an MP5 A4.  
  
I threw the gear on in the lockers, and then walked out of the building and into the shooting range that had been constructed on the 300- acre lot that Rainbow was constructed on on this side of the Atlantic.  
  
I pulled a clip out of the pouch on my side and slid it into the receiver on the submachine gun. I then grabbed the tab on the slide and pulled it all the way back and then let it slip through my fingers and scoop a round off the top of the clip, snapping it into the chamber, ready to fire.  
  
I chose the medium range. The targets were far enough away to be somewhat of a challenge and stay within range of the weapon.  
  
I aimed across the desk at first and popped off a few rounds, shredding the paper targets placed at the other end of the range.  
  
I decided to switch over to the short range. There were targets there that were made for the shooter to be moving towards when they were firing. I walked over, snapped up the MP5 and sent the rest of my mag into the thing.  
  
I dropped the mag and slipped in another. I advanced on a fresh target, instead of firing in short bursts, I let my aggression fly and held the trigger down, advancing while forcibly holding the weapon from climbing. I held it until the firing pin clicked down on an empty chamber. I let the submachine gun drop and hand off me on its sling. My hand dropped to the SOCOM holstered on my thigh. I brought it up and sent the entire mag into the silhouette's head.  
  
When the magazine was exhausted and the slide locked back I looked straight ahead through the sights at the shredded target. I then let the pistol drop back to my side, where I slid it into its holster again.  
  
"A little aggressive aren't we?" Came a voice from behind me.  
  
I jumped a little and then turned around. Krystal was standing there, clad in entry-black combats and holding her SSG3000 sniper rifle. She was chewing her gum.  
  
"I'm just working those out right now." I said motioning towards the target.  
  
"I see that," she said. "Very nice. Did you ever think that there might be a root to all this misdirected aggression?"  
  
"I don't know, perhaps it's the fact that our leader is dead, Duke is leaving for Germany again and I don't have any idea what I am doing."  
  
"Duke's leaving? He didn't say anything to me." Krystal said quizzically.  
  
"Me either, he said he just got the call this morning. He said he would stop by and say goodbye." I said.  
  
"Huh. You might want to talk to Clark and get him to put you on the active roster. You never did deal very well with not working."  
  
"Yeah. Oh well, you never know when something is going to happen, in this line of business anyway." I commented.  
  
"No kidding. Anyway, I was going to come and get you. You know, you never gave me that lesson on close quarters combat that you promised me."  
  
"Yeah, I know. We should do that now while we have a chance. Sound good to you?" I asked her, motioning with my arm for her to lead the way.  
  
"Just fine." She said and followed my lead.  
  
I stepped short as I felt a vibrating sensation at my hip. "Hang on a minute." I said, taking the beeper off my belt and looking at it.  
  
"We'll have to do this another time, Clarke is calling me to his office." I stated regrettably.  
  
I walked back into the building, checked my weapons at the armory and then took the elevator up to his office. He was sitting behind his desk working on the paperwork that we were so ridden with these days. He looked up as I walked in. "Ah, Hello. Have a seat." He said, motioning with his cigar to an empty chair across from his desk.  
  
I did so. "I've got some bad news. We identified the terrorist group involved in all of this. The problem is, they have been moving troops and supplies at an increasing rate over the past four months. That is normal when they are preparing for a major attack. The thing is, when we seized the weapon. They didn't stop. They are still moving at an increasing rate. They appear to be shipping their assets all over the globe. Weapons to Ireland, people to Canada, money in foreign banks, and there is more every day. We don't know what's going on."  
  
"They still have a bargaining chip, either another weapon or an important person. We didn't get everything from them."  
  
"Exactly. Here, intelligence just grabbed this off the airwaves." He said, handing me a paper.  
  
I looked at the white sheet. "They stole three hundred gallons of heavy water." I said and set the sheet on the desk.  
  
"And a nuclear weapons technician that isn't in any of the reports. The Russian government is trying to keep that one quiet."  
  
"Wait I remember now," my mind flashed back to that night we were in the meat freezers in Japan. "We found the bomb, and there was something else in the corner, stacked against the wall. About a dozen black sheets of some sort of metal, and about half a dozen blue plastic barrels."  
  
"Probably lead shielding and heavy water. The lead shielding is useful for moving something radioactive; say a bomb, without radiation leakage exposing it to overhead satellites. Once in a storage facility, the material would be immersed in a pool of heavy water to prevent any further radiation leaks. I think its obvious now, we have a nuclear weapon on our hands." Clark said solemnly.  
  
"We don't know where it is, though. That's the problem." I pointed out.  
  
"Yes, but we have a contact in the terrorist group who just might be able to feed us some information on its location, plus we have satellites scanning the globe constantly until the weapon is found. If we can locate it we can bring a significant part of terrorism on the European continent down for good."  
  
My mind was swimming. I didn't think anyone was ready to admit that the biological weapon hand been a decoy, especially since we had lost people finding and seizing it. Unfortunately, all the evidence was there and it all seemed to add up. We weren't finished yet.  
  
"Ready the team. We go as soon as possible." Said Clarke, then he looked back to the paperwork on his desk. 


	8. End of Ends

There was the sound of full automatic fire and three rounds of 9mm jacketed hollow point rounds shredded the head of a wooden silhouette target that was placed behind a battered table and chair set in the corner of the wooden room.  
  
"There, that was perfect." I said.  
  
Krystal let the MP5 drop to her side and then leaned forward to study the target. "Could have gone to the left some." She stated.  
  
"Probably the gun. As you have seen, things go a lot quicker than that, but we'll just work on getting you comfortable with submachine guns first." I explained.  
  
I took another of the pressboard silhouettes and was slipping back into the slot that held it up. "We can try that again, but this time you will run in through the doorway and then hit it as fast as possible, try to…" my beeper interrupted me from finishing.  
  
I pulled the device off my belt and looked at the readout. It was Clark calling me again. "It's Clark again. I have to go, practice a bit with the MP5 and get comfortable with it. We can do this some more later." I said apologetically.  
  
"All right," she said. "How's tomorrow?" She asked.  
  
"Perfect." I said, and then walked out the door of the close kill house.  
  
I walked inside the building and into the elevator that would take me down two floors to Clark's office. I stepped out when the lift reached its proper floor and walked to the man's office door. I briskly knocked and waited for him to call me in, which he did.  
  
I opened the door and stepped in. Arnavisca sat in a chair in front of the man's desk and Clark sat behind it, chewing on his trademark cigar. They both looked up as it entered.  
  
"Mobilize the team, we found the bomb." He said, somewhat happily.  
  
"Yes sir." I said and stepped back out of the office.  
  
I placed my helmet on my head and adjusted the chinstrap. I looked down at the Heckler and Koch MP5-PDW that I held in my hands. The rest of my team was prepping around me, getting ready to take that bomb.  
  
The briefing that John Clark had given me had told me that the bomb had been under transport in a personally owned 747 that was flying out of the Middle East. The plane had been under constant surveillance, but the terrorists had been unaware that Rainbow had been tipped off of the location of the weapon.  
  
They had discovered the plane's course and discovered the airport at which it was scheduled to land and refuel before completing the last leg of its journey to New Zealand. They would land in Dejarra in Queensland, Australia. That was where we had decided to hit them.  
  
Intelligence told us that it would be unlikely that the weapon would be detonated in New Zealand, but there was no telling what the terrorists would do. The longer they had the bomb, the more unpredictable they would be.  
  
We had also identified the terrorist group that was primarily involved in these actions. It was a generic terrorist group from Russia that was determined to bring back the glory days of communism in Russia. They were devoted to the idea of a powerful, communist country, with a large military that would challenge the evil of capitalism in the west and such. They called themselves the democratic liberation front, but they were internationally known by the name, the sickle. They were responsible for several car bombings and robberies, but never anything this big.  
  
The plan was that, during refueling, the tower would schedule several dozen flights for either take-off or landing ahead of the terrorist 747. This would give our team ample time to probe for an entrance into the aircraft. Krystal would set up with her SSG3000 in the control tower. From there, she would be able to fire into the cockpit of the plane and take out the pilot and co-pilot. This would effectively bring the plane to a stop on the runway. At that point, police would set up barricades on the runway to stop the plane from taking off, and two teams that had been inserted into the plane would spring into action and clean out the bottom two floors of the plane, then move up towards the cockpit.  
  
I would be in charge of the team on the bottom floor of the plane while Arnavisca would take the top. We would work from rear to front, sweeping it clear until we would meet at the very nose in the first class section. My team would ascend the ladder and join up with Arnavisca's team for a final run at the cockpit. From there we would have control of the plane and the bomb, then the standard SWAT team with the police could take care of the rest, if they were needed.  
  
The plan was sound, but it was dependant on several factors. My team would have an easy job since we would start from the rear cargo compartment, right where we were entering the plane. Arnavisca and his team would have the job of shinning up the empty elevator shaft, then climbing between the roof and fuselage to the upper rear cargo compartment where they could drop down into the visible area of the aircraft.  
  
The passenger area of the aircraft is actually suspended inside the circular fuselage. This greatly improves strength in the event of a crash or fire, and would be perfect for Arnavisca's team to move into position covertly, but one wrong move and an operative would fall through the ceiling panels and into the passenger compartment below.  
  
We got ready. SOCOMs all around, and fragmentation grenades. We all wore lightweight armor under our vests to reduce noise, and all had Nomex soft-soled boots.  
  
We suited up and all climbed into a van that pulled up by the terminal. We all piled into it and felt it speed off towards the runway. Krystal carried her SSG-3000 to the control tower to set up some sniper support for us.  
  
The van approached the aircraft from behind. We would not be detected from this angle, unless the cargo door was open and one of the terrorists was actually sticking his head out, the terrorists would never see us coming.  
  
The planes had lined up for departure in front of the terrorist 747. I counted eight in front and two behind them. There was no way for them to move the plane, even if they had to.  
  
I looked along the fuselage, finally locating the cargo door, along the underside of tube; I slid the van door open before it had come to a complete stop. Then jumped out. The rest of my team followed me as I sprinted for the cargo door, holding my PDW at the ready.  
  
I held up against the cool metal of the fuselage. I felt the wind from the huge jet engines buffet me and the stink of jet fuel was powerful in my nostrils. I waved Alain DuBarry over, the young electronics tech for my group.  
  
He let the PDW hang off its sling, then went to work on the door. It wasn't hard to get the door open; the hard part was to do it without letting the terrorists know that we were boarding the plane. When the pressurized door was opened, it would set off an alarm in the cockpit and they would send someone to investigate, no doubt, but with some electronic tweaking and a clamp that DuBarry had handy, we slid the large door open without any trouble or detection.  
  
I let my PDW hang and pulled my SOCOM in case someone was in the rear cargo compartment, but it was empty.  
  
We proceeded in. The cargo area was abandoned, so we moved up to where the galley was located, near the center of the underside of the aircraft. We reached it, still without any contacts. My team held position there while Arnavisca's team set up a small climbing rope that would allow them to shinny up the elevator shaft and into position above the passenger section.  
  
Now all I could do was wait as Arnavisca and his team climbed up the shaft and slowly moved into position. When they were all there, we prepared to move. I heard Arnavisca's voice filter through on the radio. "Gold sniper, do you have a shot?" he asked.  
  
I got ready. "Sights are hot, Blue Lead."  
  
I could feel the tension in the air. "Gold Sniper, Fire."  
  
I heard the two rounds explode outside, one after the other. I then heard a crashing and thudding noise as Arnavisca and his team dropped through the ceiling panels. I heard automatic gunfire.  
  
A voice near me yelled out and a man in a white shirt ran out of a corridor and turned to run away from my team. I snapped up my PDW and fired a five round burst that traced him from left shoulder to right hip, smearing the shirt with red. I continued forward and past him in a low run. There were three more waiting for us at a pinch point in the corridor ahead.  
  
They came out and opened fire on us as we entered the corridor. A hit grazed off my Kevlar helmet and threw me to the ground. I pulled back to where there was some cover and then returned a volley from my own weapon.  
  
We didn't have time for this delay. I freed a fragmentation grenade from my vest and then rolled it down the corridor. Everybody from my team dived for cover or threw their arms around their faces.  
  
The bomb detonated with a resounding band and flash. I felt the heat lick my skin, and then I was on the move again. We rushed down the corridor, searching for threats. Finally we reached the ladder that would allow us up into the crew and passenger compartments.  
  
Slowly I climbed the ladder, making sure that my team was backing me up. I didn't know if there was anybody in the first-class cabin above me. There could be no one, or there could be a maniac with an Uzi trained right for where my head would be appearing momentarily.  
  
I slowly poked my head over the opening above. I was relived. There was a desk immediately in front of the hole that would give me cover, and the three terrorists that I could see were more concerned with holding the corridor ahead of them. I quietly climbed up the rest of the ladder and then cleared it for the rest of my team to climb up.  
  
While I was waiting for them, I raised my PDW and opened up on the three men. I held the trigger on the automatic weapon down and swept it from left to right, cutting them down in a straight line of death.  
  
I looked back; my team had finished the climb up and had secured the rest of the room. I slowly moved forward, there was a wall that would conceal a staircase leading up to another first class section and the cockpit. I moved forward to where the second and third class passengers would be sitting.  
  
The standard seats had all been yanked out and more cargo had been stacked and chained down in their place. There was one open crate that had two wires running out of it and into a laptop computer that was sitting on a table. A man was in the chair next to the laptop, but he was dead. Bullets made crisscrossing patterns across his back. In the case was the nuke.  
  
I waved DuBarry forward. He knelt next to the nuke and examined it, then looked up at me and nodded, telling me that this one was the real deal.  
  
I moved forward, stepping lively. I waved the team forward and continued on clearing out the plane.  
  
The remaining terrorists in the plane offered very little resistance to us. We killed most of them, but managed to take a few prisoners.  
  
The president met us outside of the plane, we were still in our combat uniforms carrying loaded weapons, but he came and shook each of our hands, then let us all know that there would be a ceremony at the white house that night to celebrate our successes.  
  
This all happened in a daze. I felt a feeling of profound pride, pride for myself, pride for my organization, pride for my team. But then through all of that, I felt a sense of loss. The mission had cost us a lot; Duke was gone, not to mention Chavez's death.  
  
I had grown though, at the start of all of this, I had been a young, idealistic operative, at the end, a weathered veteran in command of a team of crack soldiers in the war against terror.  
  
I looked back at them, gathered around still in combats and carrying weapons. I saw the camaraderie, the professionalism.  
  
I lifted off the balaclava that I had rolled up and worn like a toque. I felt the breeze cut through my hair.  
  
We were it, we were the professionals. Wherever there was trouble, wherever innocents were being slaughtered, we would be there.  
  
These strong, these few… 


End file.
